4th January 2006.
8:12 am

From : McShort, Lisa (Lisa.McShort@something.com)

To : Sinclair, Sara (S.Sinclair@indigolemon.com)

I’ve always fancied speed dating, but I’ve never had the guts to go through with it.  It’s like getting your legs waxed for the first time, you understand all the advantages but the doubt niggles deep inside, throwing up a barrage of questions – how much will it hurt? will it last long? will they look and snigger at my cellulite? But eventually the pros outweigh the cons and you book up at some salon, far from where you stay knowing that if you scream “FUCK!” at the first hot wax strip peeling off your hair and some skin, you’ll never return to the same salon.
Unfortunately Lisa my best friend has booked this speed dating thing and I’ve been huckled into it, and the worst part is, if I scream “Fuck!” at the first guy who sits at my table, Lisa will hear it all and no doubt relay all the gory details to our friends.

I can see my boss watching me again, he’s such a tosser.
He has classic little man syndrome, he’s about 5’ and has the amazing ability to make everyone feel the same height.
I’m going to quit here as soon as I get a better job, I don’t need that little wanker giving me the evil eye everytime I open my email inbox.
He probably has access to it, reading all my emails, personal and business, he probably gets off on them, ugh!

I print out what I’m working on, and walk into Mr Fry’s (or Small Fry as I like to call him) placing it in his In Tray.  For the past eight years I’ve done this, got my work approved by him before I can send it off to Newspapers, Members of the Public, Parliament, Councillors, Local Government etc.
I always time it so I never enter his office when he is there, the last time I did was after I was off sick.
My “return to work interview” went something like this (keep in mind I was 16)

“Are you fit for work just now Sara?”

“Yes, I think so”

“You think so? You must know?”

“Well the doctor said I’m ok to return if I want, and I feel ok”

At this point I noticed he was writing down what I said.
Frowning I looked at him, he gazed straight through me.

“Have you been to the doctor?”

Did he just ask that? Is he actually listening?

“Yes…. I just told you…….”

He interrupted me
“When?”

“On the first day of my sickness, the seventh day and finally the tenth, when I got my certificate to come back to work”

He shuffled some papers, finding the copy of my certificates, he nodded.
There was something not right about this office I thought, the desk was normal height, my chair was a non height adjustable non swivel thing. I felt like I was sitting on the floor and he was standing over me.
Then it dawned on me his chair was boosted up high, and his desk split into two parts, his side slightly higher than mine.
I started to smile.

“Something funny?”
He growled at me

“No Sir, I just em saw your calendar, very amusing” Can I just point out that I had just left school and still had a tendency to call people Sir.

“Are you aware of our absence management policy?” He quizzed me.

“Em no, I’ve never been off sick before….”
My voice slightly trembled, I didn’t want him to think I thought being sick a laughing matter.

“At Indigo Lemon, we are currently reduncing ( think he made this word up) staff due to poor attendance via Sick Leave, do you know this?”
He boomed, for a small guy his voice had some gusto, I pondered for a second if he was one of those babies that are tiny, but can scream like an opera singer.

“…..emm no I didn’t know but I was really sick, the doctor said I couldn’t come in and”

He cut me off

“Sara, I understand all this, I’m not blind, I’ve got your doctors lines here!  But here at Indigo Lemon it is simply not acceptable to be sick, I will have to consider your position in the company very carefully, and as you have only been with us such a short time, I would not raise your hopes in expecting you to be with us much longer”
Looking rather please with his little speech, he stared at me for my reaction.

I of course took the best option left to someone totally inexperienced with real world issues and office politics and preceded to ball my eyes out, snotting and sniffing and doing the

“My m-um said I could-nt come in cos I-I was ill an I sa-id th-is would ha-ha-happen (sob) (sniff) (deep inhaling)”

I looked at him through bleary eyed, mascara smudged vision and to my surprise he was rigid with what looked like fear.
His coping mechanism wasn’t prepared for a 16 year old blubbering in his office, he immediately jumped down from his chair and rushed out the room, returning with hankies, a glass of water and Rhona.

“I’ll leave you to deal with this, I have a meeting to attend at the Town Hall” he nodded to Rhona.

Rhona sat down to console me as best she could, eventually extracting the previously discussed topic.

“He says that to everyone who’s off sick, it’s just to scare you”

And it did.

Returning to my desk I unlocked my computer and replied to Lisa’s email.

Looking at my next item of work I sighed inwardly, Mr Fry had made a comment at some function which offended half the city, I have to come up with a reasonable statement explaining what he meant when he said
“The food was delicious, I’m sure Spam Valley would be proud”

After much googling and consulting my mother (a fountain of knowledge for these kind of matters)
I discovered Spam Valley was a phrase reserved for people in the mid 60’s who bought houses so expensive that the family survived on eating Spam.  I wonder if they had Spam Roast on a Sunday with all the trimmings.
Barclay Park threw up these houses and ever since then it was colloquially referred to as Spam Valley.  In the years to come a Hotel was built on the edge of Spam Valley and was named Barclay Park Hotel, at this hotel last weekend Mr Fry made a short after dinner speech to the “Young Entrepreneurs of Renfrewshire Association” offending the locals and staff with his flimsy comment.
Now I had to coin something acceptable to issue to the attendees and hotel.
“I would like to take thank you for inviting me as after dinner speaker at the event held in the beautiful and well presented Barclay Park Hotel on the 30th December 2005,  I was overwhelmed by the dedication and support of your Association, and was deeply moved by how I was received.
May I take this opportunity to apologise for any remarks I made which may of caused offence to any attendees, I myself, am a Local to the area and heard the phrase “Spam Valley” throughout my childhood, I had no incline as to it’s meaning or derivation and certainly will not use the phrase again.
I would once again like to thank you for your hospitality, and will continue to support the Young Entrepreneurs of Renfrewshire Association continuously.

Kind Regards

Mr F. S. Fry

MD Indigo Lemon Ltd.”

Hmmm, probably will have to change a few things, but you get the idea.
No doubt Mr Fry will want it completely re done.
Apparently he’s a eccentric self made millionaire, who loves local life and enjoys golf (according  to his website)
In reality he’s a moody mini Hitler, with an attitude problem, who takes 8 holidays a year to escape “Local Life”, hates his company and his job.  He can’t sell up because it’s making such a loss due to the vast amounts of payouts he’s had to make over the last two years.
Whispers in the office said his wife left him after she found out he was having an affair two years ago.
We all felt sorry for Mrs Fry, the office chipped in and sent her a massive bouquet of flowers, she in turn, sent the office a huge hamper filled with alcohol attached a note reading “Been trying to get rid of him for ages, my thanks to Rhona xx”

Everyone laughed at the note thinking Rhona must of tipped her off, or even that they were friends.  I was the only one who seemed suspicious, I never voiced my thoughts or ideas.  I carefully gouged what others thought via cigarette and lunch breaks.
No one had even thought twice about it.